


Sick

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, I Don't Even Know, Im serious Dean vomits mid bj and Sam keeps going and this is gross, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little too much force in a roll and Dean’s falling off the bed while Sam follows him. Laughing. Collapsing into the narrow space between bed and wall in a tangle, Sam kneels up and pulls Dean into sitting up.<br/>“Hey, you ok?”<br/>“Yeah, yeah fuck I wanna suck y’r cock…”<br/>Christ but Dean is drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick

Sam fumbles with the motel key, getting the door shoved open as his brother stumbles against his back and near falls into the room. Righting Dean with a hand on his jacket, shoving him vaguely in the direction of a bed, Sam gets the door locked and the salt line righted before kicking off his boots. Keys on the table, jacket dropped, and Sam is flopping on the bed right next to Dean.

It’s sloppy and drunk and all kinds of good. Dean doesn’t have a lot of walls when he’s drunk, he just lets it all come tumbling down. He’s eager for touch and for wanting, flushed hot and needy. Trying to wriggle out of his clothes, and Sam helps with that. Mouth to lips, to his neck, down along his collarbone and searching lower to the bud of a nipple as Sam tries to shuck his own pants. Hands in his hair tugging harsh, drunk, uncoordinated.

Been a while since they had any kind of leads on Dad, a while since they had a case. Dean gets morose, but Sam, he kind of likes these times in between.

A little too much force in a roll and Dean’s falling off the bed while Sam follows him. Laughing. Collapsing into the narrow space between bed and wall in a tangle, Sam kneels up and pulls Dean into sitting up.

“Hey, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah fuck I wanna suck y’r cock…”

Christ but Dean is drunk. Eyes dilated wide, sweat on his brow. He tips over if Sam lets him go. Sam’s hands aren’t too good at staying steady either. Maybe he’s had less than Dean or maybe he holds it better, but he’s not quite that far gone.

“Hey we should uh, do you wanna… sleep?”

“Nnn, c’mere…”

And there’s hands on his jeans, on his belt, fumbling around but hey, they’re still there.

So Sam helps him, gets both of them naked on the scratchy mustard yellow carpet and Dean’s drooling a little, spit wet everywhere he gets his mouth on Sam. It only makes Sam want that mouth on his cock. Dean’s hard and pressed against his thigh, rolling, jerking, shoving at clothes until it’s just skin to skin and those quiet little breathy pants in the space between them.

“Yeah, baby boy, c’mere, g’nna, g’nna fuck my mouth with’t…”

God Sam shouldn’t. He probably shouldn’t do more than just rub it out between them, hand job, good enough, he could suck Dean off that’d be nice. But those hands are pulling at him and Dean’s mouthing down his torso all zig zag pattern as he rubs against the floor. And yeah. That’d be, it’d be perfect.

Shoving Dean up and back, braced against the motel wall, Sam gets his knees under him and pushes up. Both mostly naked. Cocks hard and straining, hips giving eager little shoves every now and then like they could work an ass out of thin air. But no. No, Dean’s face is right here and that’s perfect. Jaw slack, mouth open and shiny with spit just dripping down his chin, Dean gets his hands weakly on Sam’s hips and pulls him forward a fraction and that’s all Sam needs.

Pushing in to the heat of Dean’s mouth, maybe a little too much too soon, Sam leans his forehead against the motel wall and cradles Dean’s head in his hands. Bends a knee up to brace beside Dean’s shoulder, hands curved around to the back of his neck, mouth so fucking wet around him. Sam shoves in hard until he hits Dean’s throat and it’s tighter there, feels smoother than the ridges of teeth, just muscle, slick heat, so Sam pushes in further and there’s plenty of him to sink in.

Dean whines a little, his hands clutching tight against Sam’s hips, but he’s ok. He’s pliant and he holds on as Sam fucks forward, fucks into his throat and holds it there for just a second, pubis pushed to Dean’s face, lips wide, Dean starting to jerk under him. Pulling out, Sam shushes his brother, runs a thumb against the swell of his lips and tells Dean how good he is before snapping forward and fucking him raw.

There’s a sudden clutch of Dean’s throat, gurgling noise, and it’s a flood of heat and wet and Sam’s not sure for a second what’s happening but Dean’s just letting it go. Vomiting. Everywhere. He’s fucking spewing and it’s all kinds of gross, too much liquor and pretzels and the smell is awful…. only, it’s so fucking squishy and slick in Dean’s mouth that Sam can’t help that he thrusts forward one, two, three, four more times before pulling back.

“Shit, De…”

There’s remorse in his voice, but Sam’s still rock hard and looming above Dean as he wipes a tear off Dean’s cheek and runs a thumb through the vomit down on his chin before wiping it off on the jeans only halfway down Sam’s thighs.

“Are you okay, I’m sorry…”

“S’fine, come on.”

And Dean, Dean’s gripping Sam’s hip and pulling him forward, mouth stained and sick closing around his cock again, it’s in the corner of his lips and dripping down his chest but christ he’s so slick inside that Sam just needs.

Shoving in deep enough to steal Dean’s breath, it only takes a few more brutal thrusts to the base and that thick slimy feel tight around his cock and Sam is pulling out to splash across Dean’s face, mark him pretty, mark him right, white dripping down through the sick.

“Dean, shit…”

Dropping to his knees, Dean’s swaying but his hands clutch at Sam’s shoulders and his cock is still hard, wet and Sam doesn’t want to think about what he’s feeling on it as he jerks Dean off, too repulsed to kiss him but Dean seems content to bury his face in Sam’s shoulder and hump into the circle of his hand.

Getting the two of them cleaned off when he’s pretty drunk himself is a task. Sam does what he can for the carpet - not much - strips Dean and sponge bathes him, forces water and an Advil on him, before tucking him in to sleep. Then Sam showers, tries to think long and hard about it, but really, most of what he can think about is the tears in the corner of Dean’s eyes and the desperation in how he whined for it, the absolute need to please that was there, and Sam really doesn’t know what to do with that.

So he brushes his teeth, bundles the dirty towels in the corner, and spoons up behind his brother.


End file.
